The Broken System
As the 20th anniversary of 9/11 approaches, the anxiety is starting to weigh on me. Every year around this time, I would start to notice the same anxiety and sadness looming around my father. This time of year was always hard for him. It’s a hard time of year for many Americans, particularly for New Yorkers.
This will be my second 9/11 without my dad, which also means we are coming up on the second year without him being here with us. Most days I still don’t feel like what happened was real. I still catch myself talking about him as if he is still here with us, maybe that is my way of coping with the loss of him. The more I reflect on this day, the more I have realized that 9/11 has shaped me in ways that I never thought imaginable.
This day has affected everyone so differently, but I feel like for me personally it is even harder being that my dad was a first responder that day. He stayed at Ground Zero for 8 months assisting with the clean-up. I was so little when 9/11 happened and I only can remember that morning and that afternoon, but nothing after. It is almost like my memory has purposely blocked it out, maybe it is for the better.
I was only 4, turning 5 at the time of 9/11 so I don’t have too many memories of my dad before that time. I really only know post-9/11 dad and sometimes that makes me really sad. Don’t get me wrong, it NEVER stopped him from being the best dad a girl could ask for but sometimes it feels like a part of my dad was always missing because of the trauma he went through because of that day. My dad’s physical health was never life threatening until his diagnosis. He had smaller illnesses that were always manageable. It was the mental health issues that deteriorated him.
My dad worked at Rescue 5 for 9 years. Working in a Rescue company is particularly special because those firefighters receive specialized training in things such as collapse rescue, hazardous material techniques, and confined space training just to name a few. Those guys were like family to him. He would tell me how they went to each other’s weddings and spent a great deal of time together.
My dad was bouncing around firehouses at the time of 9/11 and he decided not to go to fire tech school that day. If he came back to Staten Island that morning, he would have hopped on that rig with them. The guilt killed him more than anything. He would wake up from nightmares, telling us that his friends were right there in his bedroom. I always felt terrible because there was nothing we could do or say to help ease the pain of what he was going through.
Generally speaking, my dad carried around a lot of survivor’s guilt. He told me that I saved his life once. When I was 6 months old, I went in for a surgery to get tubes put in my ears since I was having chronic ear infections. My dad took off of work that day and the guy that covered for him passed away from a fire they responded to. If my dad didn’t take off, it could have just as easily have been him. Then, I really would have never had the chance to know him.
Sometimes, I feel like the system failed him. When my dad got his cancer diagnosis, it was at the point where it was very fatal, and time was of the essence. My dad was able to get into Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, but they made him wait 10 days to make sure his insurance would go through before they could start treatment. In those 10 days, his tumor markers jumped to unimaginable numbers and he then developed a tumor that was sitting in his liver the wrong way, making him confused. He was no longer able to do treatment because he wasn’t strong enough and the only option was palliative care. In other words, make him comfortable. To me, that is just outright pathetic.
The system failed him and all of the men and women who are still getting sick 20 years later and excuse my lack of words, but it pisses me off. It pisses me off that our country did nothing to stop the attacks. Did nothing and declared the “air safe” and didn’t give them the proper equipment when they cleaned up at Ground Zero. It angers me that innocent lives were taken at the expense of our government. The system failed when they told my dad in April of 2019 that he was “the healthiest he’s ever been” and clearly someone messed up because he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer 5 months later. I am no doctor, but you can’t tell me that cancer can grow like that overnight.
The system is broken and failed a guy who would have taken his shirt off his back for anyone. For my dad, the job didn’t end when he got off of his shift. The job was who he was, and he was proud to do it. It didn’t matter how much money he made or didn’t make. He always told us that serving in the FDNY was everything he wanted to do. I have a memory of my dad picking me and my sister up from cheerleading practice after school (such a girl dad) and it was raining outside. We were driving down Arthur Kill Road when we saw a pick-up truck wrapped around a telephone pole. He pulled over and told us to stay in the car. My dad was able to help save the kids stuck in the truck before emergency services and the fire department showed up.
My dad kept albums and albums of pictures which is amazing to have as a keepsake. In those albums he kept every article he was mentioned in which is just so amazing. To have this documentation of my dad being a hero is something I will always hold so special to me. There are even handwritten letters addressed to him. One from a little boy he helped saved and said how my dad made him feel less afraid. I don’t think there is anything else that embodies my dad more than that.
My father survived the attacks of 9/11, but I will always say that a huge piece of him was left there that day. Our borrowed time with him lasted 18 years and 43 days. There is never going to be enough time with the ones you love the most, especially when it is a parent. Everyone wants to think that the ones they love are immortal, that they are going to live forever. The sad fact is that we aren’t even at the peak of people passing away from 9/11 related illness. It is only going to get worse as time goes on.
I can only hope as another 9/11 passes, we can all really take the time to reflect on the scarifies people made that day. We can Never Forget the first responders who were the real heroes and the innocent lives that were taken from us all too soon.
